


Control

by Tower of Scrobbles (ashangel94)



Series: SBGC AU [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: AU of an AU, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Shiphaus - Freeform, Switchblades and Gym Class AU, sbgc au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 08:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashangel94/pseuds/Tower%20of%20Scrobbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James gets sent to a Christian conversion place because of being homosexual. It doesn’t end well. (this is an AU of the sbgc au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> I technically wrote this one before Castle and a few hours after Strange Love, but because of the sensitive topic I wasn't confident about posting it to here. It's been a few weeks, and because of the warm reception of the first two fics, I decided to post it anyway. 
> 
> So have another sorta song fic. only this time it’s an alternate universe of the alternate universe of SBGC.   
> The song is Control by Halsey  
> PS: This one is a little more linear  
> PPS: I made myself cry while typing this story in the middle of my college hallway, waiting for my class to begin.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: implied suicide, eating disorder, and if you need me to add any others do not hesitate to let me know, I’ve never written anything triggering before so I’m new to this whole warning thing.
> 
> Original AU that this is deviated off of by @hausofgreene on Tumblr.

> They send me away to find them a fortune  
> A chest filled with diamonds and gold  
> The house was awake  
> With shadows and monsters  
> The hallways they echoed and groaned

His parents weren’t always the nicest of folks unless you are from their church. Then they are trying their best with a delinquent for a child. He should have known with all the Sundays spent in service that his choice in partners would not go over well with them when one of the parishioners snitched about seeing him kiss multiple boys at the skate park.

* * *

 

> I sat alone, in bed ‘til the morning  
> I’m crying, “They’re coming for me”  
> And I tried to hold these secrets inside me  
> My mind’s like a deadly disease

They locked him in his room that night telling him help would be there for him when he woke up in the morning. They made the mistake of forgetting to take his phone. 

He spent the entire night texting the boys frantically trying to figure out some way for him to escape. Bruce and Adam were more than willing to go break him out from his window, but Lawrence talked them down saying it would do no good and they would just get arrested. 

Matt even yelled for his dad to go save him. But there was nothing Sheriff Peake could do. The Willems’ were within their rights to send James to a “Private Institution”. 

Sean and Joel gave him the idea that eventually calmed them all down. 

Pretend. Play along. “Get better.” James agreed, he’s only got to make it a few more years, he could be “straight” enough to get back out and then he could be better about hiding the boys until he could leave.

* * *

> I paced around for hours, on empty  
> I jumped at the slightest of sounds  
> And I couldn’t stand the person inside me  
> I turned all the mirrors around

Pretending can only go on for so long before you realize they know you’re faking. It’d been 7 months before James cracked. James ended up in solitary more often then not. The place did not do wonders for his eating disorder. Walking around his little cubicle of white walls, delirious from lack of food, despite being provided 3 meals a day. They finally realized a feeding tube would be necessary. 

He hated how he looked, knowing that if his boys saw him like this, all skin and bones, they would leave him anyway and being in this place would have been for naught. They had to make sure he never went into a bathroom that had a mirror and all his surfaces weren’t reflective. Especially after he broke his wrist smashing the cafeteria table until it was covered in blood and he couldn’t see his face.

* * *

> And all the kids cried out,  
> “Please stop, you’re scaring me”  
> I can’t help this awful energy  
> Goddamn right, you should be scared of me  
> Who is in control?

His violent reactions with mirrors was not great for his interactions with the rest of the Institution. One of their “treatments” was mock dates with girls their age. And one of them was a picnic near a pond on the property. Girls don’t react too kindly when you start throwing everything around you into the water. 

James no longer cared, he didn’t understand why they still had him there. He tried the nice way, the assimilation route, and since that didn’t work. The only logical next step would be the opposite, right?

* * *

> I’m well acquainted  
> With villains that live in my bed  
> They beg me to write them  
> So they’ll never die when I’m dead
> 
> And I’ve grown familiar  
> With villains that live in my head  
> They beg me to write them  
> So I’ll never die when I’m dead

After 2 years and his 18th birthday had passed, he was so sure he would finally be free. Except the people that run the institution were able to use his records of violence as signs of mental instability to be able to send him to an even stricter place. 

James knew what was gonna happen, knew that he would never see his boys again. If they even  _wanted_  to see him again. Two years was plenty of time to forget someone like _him_. Especially with no contact allowed. No letters, no phone calls, no visits. 

He’d made his mind up.

The new place gave him a journal to see if maybe writing his frustrations out would help. He wrote alright. 

He wrote about the PrettyBoy and how when he danced on stage even without music it was one of the most breathtaking scenes in the world.

About the way Secondhand giggled when he got even a little high, and he may have been small but in a fight he wasn’t the one walking away with cuts from a knife. 

About the first words Sheriff ever spoke to him, and the way he said so much in so few words.

About the warmth of CryBaby’s home even when the heater broke for a week in the middle of December.

And the way Knuckles would get lost in his artwork and not even a fire could break his concentration. 

But he wrote the most about his first lover. His Tank. He wrote his apologies mostly to him, and how he finally understood the way he would get sometimes, and that he hopes he never goes through with it, but that if he ever did. He’ll be there waiting for him, whatever may wait on the other-side.

**Author's Note:**

> ~Fin~
> 
> I hate myself, because I made myself sad, quite literally for no reason. I didn’t have to write this but for some reason the words wouldn’t go away until I typed them all out and had a nice cry.   
> I apologize if you read this and cried as well, I truly am sorry.
> 
> ~Shrimp
> 
> *First-posted on my tumblr sideblog, so if you have seen this before that is why.


End file.
